Rebecca's Rashness (5 page)

"Oh, that's so sweet," Durinda said. "It's like Pete's Rebecca's baby."

Rebecca made a face at this suggestion but Pete didn't look like he minded. Well, there were worse things than being compared to a baby. Like, say, getting pancaked by a Hummer. Pete probably didn't care what anybody said about him right now.

"This is wonderful news!" Marcia said.

"The fact that I don't have my power yet is wonderful news?" Rebecca said.

"Yes," Marcia said. "It means that whoever or whatever leaves those notes for us hasn't lost its knack. You know, odd as it is that some force is so closely attuned to what's going on in this house that it knows the precise moment to leave a new note, it would be even more disturbing if it suddenly stopped. What would it mean if it stopped before we all got our powers and gifts? Would it mean that the note leaver had lost its own power? Would it mean we'd never find out what happened to Mommy and Daddy? In an uncertain universe, those notes are one of the few certain things—why, a note even reached us on a plane! So to have them suddenly stop would mean yet more uncertainty for us."

"Wow, that was a long speech," Georgia said.

"I hate an uncertain universe." Petal shuddered.

"As I say," Rebecca said with another crack of the knuckles, "I'm still feeling fairly strong."

"Okay," Annie said, crossing her arms. "If you're still so strong, prove it."

"Fine," Rebecca said, looking around the drawing room for something to prove it with. At last she settled on the wing chair in front of the fireplace. She bent down, lifted it cleanly off the floor, and then set it back down again.

"That was impressive," Jackie said.

"Oh, come on," Georgia scoffed. "That's not impressive." Georgia went over to the wing chair and bent down to get a firm grip on it. "Why, anyone can..." Georgia strained with all her might and after a long moment was only able to lift it a smidgen off the ground before she had to drop it again. "See, anyone can do it."

"Not like Rebecca did it," Marcia observed. "Rebecca did it without showing any sign of effort at all."

"Oh," Rebecca pooh-poohed, "pooh-pooh. Of course Georgia's right. All I did was lift a chair. It's not like lifting a whole Hummer. It was nothing. Now, why don't you all move in for a group hug?"

Rebecca was requesting a group hug? Now, this was

odd. Even odder than the number seven, or Marcia. Still, we thought, as all of us moved toward her, including Pete, maybe after realizing she didn't have her power after all, she simply wanted to express her affection for us.

Once we were in position, all of us encircling Rebecca, we felt our feet gradually leave the earth.

"What's going on?" Petal asked worriedly. "Have I finally worried about something so much that, as Rebecca has warned me many times, I've managed to spin myself right off the planet?"

"I don't know," Georgia's muffled voice said, "that may be the case for you, but I'm fairly certain that the rest of us are being lifted off the ground by Rebecca."

"Who doesn't have her power yet now?" Rebecca said with what can only be described as a maniacal laugh.

"Put us down," Annie commanded. "You may be freakishly strong, but I'm still head of this household."

Rebecca set us down.

"I'm still not impressed," Georgia said. "So she lifted us all off the ground. Big deal. We're just a bunch of little girls. We don't weigh very much. Carl the talking refrigerator is always saying we're too skinny."

"That may be so," Jackie said, "but she lifted Mr. Pete too."

"And Mr. Pete's a big guy," Durinda added. "No offense, Mr. Pete."

"None taken," Pete said. "I am a big guy. And even if no one else is, I'm impressed that Rebecca could lift me, even if I'm not quite as heavy as a Hummer."

"What could this mean?" Marcia was clearly puzzled, and troubled too. "If the crisis of Mr. Pete almost dying gave Rebecca her strength before, why does she still have it? And if this is her power, how is it possible the note leaver hasn't left a note?"

"Who knows?" Rebecca shrugged. "And who cares? Perhaps I've always been freakishly strong but just never knew it."

"We should have a party," Zinnia suggested again. "Having a party is practically like getting a present."

We ignored Zinnia.

"But how could you not have known such a thing about yourself?" Marcia asked.

Rebecca shrugged again. "Maybe it's because I was never tested before. Does anyone want to see if I can still lift the Hummer? After all, the Hummer is still heavier than all of you put together, even when we throw in Mr. Pete."

Seven of us shrugged, and so did Mr. Pete. Might as well go see if she could still lift the Hummer. We weren't exactly sure what that would prove, but we were fairly certain it would prove
something.
Plus, at least two of us were hoping that she couldn't lift it anymore. Bad as a world in which Rebecca could lift all of us at once might be, one in which her strength was so extraordinary she could lift the Hummer whenever she wanted was just too much to think about. It would mean the universe had tilted. It could mean something had happened to the note leaver.

Out we trooped, following Rebecca to the garage.

We'd like to give a big buildup, create an air of suspense here, but there simply wasn't any.

Once we were in the garage, Rebecca lifted the Hummer. Only this time, unlike in the parking lot, where she'd just lifted it by the bumper, she lifted the whole thing clear off the ground, like she was lifting a toothpick.

"Would you all like to climb inside?" Rebecca said. "See if I can still lift it with all of you in it?"

None of us wanted to do that.

Back into the house we trooped.

"I wonder if I'm the strongest girl in the world," Rebecca mused once we were back in the drawing room. "I wonder if I could lift this entire house clean off its foundations..."

"Oh brother." Georgia rolled her eyes. "If you're that strong, maybe you should join the circus."

"That's not such a bad idea." Rebecca's eyes gleamed. "I could be the Strong Lady."

"You'd be the Strong Girl, actually," Marcia corrected.

"More like the Strong Idiot," Georgia muttered, but she muttered it very quietly. No doubt, knowing Rebecca's strength, Georgia didn't want to make her angry. Because then who knew what Rebecca might do?

"But I don't think I'm ready for the circus just yet." Rebecca shrugged off the idea. "There's too much I need to do around here first."

"Like what?" Jackie asked.

"Like, I don't know..." Rebecca paused, casting her eyes on Petal. Then, with no effort at all, Rebecca picked Petal up in one hand. Petal, who could be something like one of those cute little pill bugs when scared, immediately tucked her knees in and curled herself into a tight ball. That's when Rebecca balanced the curled-up Petal on the very tip of one finger and used her other hand to spin Petal around until she was spinning at an alarming speed.

"Look at me!" Rebecca said. "It's like Petal's a spinning basketball. Maybe I'll join the Harlem Globetrotters!"

"Wait a second," Marcia said. "If this really is Rebecca's power, whether the note leaver knows it or not, then Rambunctious should have her power too."

"That's right, isn't it?" Pete said. "Your cats always get your powers when you do."

Seven Eights plus Pete plus the spinning Petal headed to the cat room, which was like our drawing room, only for cats.

"Phew!" Marcia said when we got there. "It looks like all they're doing is drinking from their water dishes."

Poor Marcia. The way she was worrying about the note leaver, it was almost as bad as Petal worrying about just about anything.

But then one cat—that would be Rambunctious—stopped lapping up water and looked at us. And when Rambunctious saw what Rebecca was doing, she made straight for Precious. A moment later, Precious was curled up and poised on the tip of one of Rambunc-

tious's paws while Rambunctious used a second paw to spin Precious like a basketball.

"Oh no," Marcia said. "Rebecca's cat now has superhuman strength too."

"Actually, that would be superkitty strength," Jackie pointed out.

"What can it all mean?" Marcia said.

"I think we should have a party," Zinnia said. "No matter whether Rebecca has found her power or not, no matter what it all means, I think we should have a party—you know, to celebrate Rebecca saving Mr. Pete's life and to celebrate Mr. Pete still being alive."

Fourteen eyes plus Pete's turned to stare at Zinnia.

"What an excellent idea," Annie said. "Why didn't you suggest this sooner?

SIX

"So when should we have this party?" Annie asked.

"I suppose it should be on the Fourth of July," Durinda said. "The only problem is, that's so close. I'd need to plan a menu and get special food for the barbecue, particularly since Zinnia says we shouldn't eat meat anymore. I wonder if they sell fillet-of-sole dogs at the supermarket..."

"I think having it on the Fourth of July is a lousy idea," Georgia said. "I mean, do we even celebrate the Fourth of July?"

"Isn't that an American holiday?" Petal said. "I always get so confused. Are we in America or are we in Britain?"

We would have liked to laugh in Petal's face over that one. Only problem was, we sometimes got confused ourselves, what with the way we spoke, not to mention the added confusion of the faux British accent Annie used whenever she wanted to impersonate our model father, Robert Huit.

Hmm ... we mulled it over.

Well, we supposed, if we did live in the United States, we would feel one way about having a celebration on the Fourth of July. But if we were in England, we were quite certain we would feel an entirely different way about it.

We had studied
some
history.

"Never mind that," Rebecca said, cutting short our mulling. "Since this is to be a celebration of
my
accomplishment"—we did notice how she'd cut Pete right out of the celebration picture—"then I think
I
should get to pick out the day I'm to be celebrated on."

"I hope you're not going to say today," Durinda said, looking horrified. "So much has already happened today. I think it's a bit much to expect me to plan a party and prepare the food all on the same day."

"Plus," Petal said, "I don't much care for going back to do another Really Big Shop right now. Too many scary people tend to gather at the grocery store."

"I think you'll all be pleased with the date I selected," Rebecca said, "and it will give you plenty of time to prepare, much more than if we were to do it on the Fourth."

After a long pause, during which it appeared that Rebecca was waiting for a drumroll, Jackie prompted, "Are you going to share this information right now or should we go put the groceries away first?"

"We're not going to give you an actual drumroll," Georgia added, "so you might as well get on with it."

But she'd spoken too soon. Because just then, Zinnia picked up a handy pencil and tapped it on the table several times before rapping it smartly on Daddy Sparky as though Daddy Sparky were a giant cymbal.

"That was fun," Zinnia said cheerily. "Would you like me to do it again, Rebecca?"

"That won't be necessary," Rebecca said. "I'm ready to tell you now. The absolute perfect, best ever, fan-tabuloso day for my celebration is ... Bastille Day!"

"Bas...
what?
" even Marcia felt prompted to say.

"Bastille Day," Rebecca said impatiently. "Weren't any of the rest of you paying attention when we were in France for Uncle George and Aunt Martha's wedding?"

France. Uncle George. Aunt Martha.

We sighed. If only Uncle George and Aunt Martha hadn't left for a three-month-long round-the-world cruise right after their wedding and therefore couldn't be reached, we might have asked Uncle George more about our mother's identical twin and her children. Uncle George did appear to know more about other relatives than our average family member. Too bad he was at sea.

"Why would Bastille Day be the perfect day?" Annie wanted to know. "And when is it anyway?"

"It's celebrated on July fourteenth every year," Rebecca said. "And it's perfect because it's French and we're French. Our last name's Huit, you know, not Ocho or Smith."